


Joy on Earth

by FeuillesMortes



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, The White Princess (TV), Winter King: Henry VII and the Dawn of Tudor England - Thomas Penn
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, purely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 13:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeuillesMortes/pseuds/FeuillesMortes
Summary: A day in the life of Elizabeth of York.





	Joy on Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nami64](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nami64/gifts).



> This is a short drabble I wrote for @harritudur's (nami64) birthday. This is purely self-indulgent, no plot, just fluff.

A long silence filled the room, disturbed only by the flickers of the fireplace and the murmurs of the petitioners gathered together along the hall. The king was holding justice that day; his subjects tiptoed in the throne room. Elizabeth had been standing for more than an hour in the side gallery when she felt Prince Harry tugging at the fabric of her skirts. 

“Mama, it’s taking too long.”

She squeezed his hand to shush him. “I know, love. Be patient. Just a moment now.”

That morning Elizabeth had visited the royal nursery at Eltham Palace. She had personally gone to check on baby Mary’s health, only to find her daughter safe and sound in her peaceful slumber bliss. The death of her dear Bessie the year before had left her terribly fearful for her children. It was not difficult now to find the queen journeying back and forth between the palaces. 

Just moments before she left Eltham, Harry came running after her. He said he wanted to see his father. He wanted to show the king the prayer book Lady Margaret had gifted him: a beautiful item richly adorned with gemstones and exquisite illuminated pages. Elizabeth knew the prince hadn’t taken all his lessons that day, yet she could not resist taking him with her. Not when he had asked her so sweetly.

At that moment Harry was restless beside her. “Mama,” he shook her hand. “Grandmother said I could be pope someday.”

“Did she?” Harry bounced his head, nodding.  _Pope,_ she let that notion sink in. Surely just imagining her son as God’s highest servant should fill her with pride. Yet, the thought of her boy pursuing a career in far-away Rome made Elizabeth uneasy. She knew the girls would grow up to marry foreign princes, hopefully they would become queens themselves. But must Harry leave her as well? Him, too?

She circled Harry’s shoulders and brought him closer. She started, almost carefully. “My sweet, do you… Do you want to become pope? You know you can do whatever you want.”

He shook his head. “No, mama—” Elizabeth sighed with relief. “—I want to be king! Like Papa!” He lifted up his chin and placed his hands on his hips, taking a prideful stance.

“Harry, no!” She laughed, immediately covering her mouth so as to not break protocol and the silence of the room. “Love, we’ve talked about this. Your brother Arthur, as the eldest, inherits the crown after your father.”

“But I too want to defeat an evil king and marry a beautiful princess!”

 _Is that how they say it happened?_ Elizabeth took a knee and smoothed his lovely ginger strands into place. “My darling, you are the second son…”

“But then who am I going to be?”

 _You’re going to be my darling boy_ , she thought bluntly. No, she needed a better answer than that.She held both his hands in her own. “You are the Duke of York, are you not? You will be your brother’s right hand. His most loved and trusted advisor. Isn’t that just grand?”

Her boy gave her a rather dissatisfied pout. “I suppose so, mama.”

A commotion in the throne room made Elizabeth stand up again. She heard the session being dismissed by two hits of a staff on the floor. “Come, love. It’s time.” As petitioners all but fled the room in flocks, Elizabeth left the gallery to approach the throne from the side, taking Harry with her by the hand. A couple of her ladies-in-waiting trailed behind them. Her husband was handing back the crown and other regalia when his eyes found her. 

“Bess, is that you?” He gave her a pleasant smile. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Yes, your Grace. I have brought you a visitor.” She looked back to Harry half-hidden behind her skirts. Seeing his father holding the hand of justice had made him surprisingly timid.

“Oh.” Henry shifted in his throne, noticing the prince. The little hand wrapped around her leg was a sure giveaway. Henry hesitated, not knowing whether to take it as a child’s play or not. “Who is it you bring with you, I wonder? Who could that be?” 

“Me!” Their son giggled and jumped from behind her, landing with a pose.

“Prince Harry wishes to show you the splendid gift my Lady Margaret gave him. Isn’t it, Harry?” One of her ladies came forward with the prayer book and placed it in the prince’s hands.

“Then by all means, come show me.” Henry beckoned his son forward with a light tap on his knees. 

It was all that was needed for Harry to sprint in his direction. He threw himself in his father’s lap with such energy and enthusiasm that he caused the king to grunt. The few courtiers that still lingered in the room collectively gasped.

“Harry!” She admonished the prince with a hard look. “Be careful with your father, the king!” 

“There’s no need for concern. No harm was done.” Her husband was only amused as he struggled to find the right balance for Harry on his knees. The image of the king holding his son on his lap was rather alien to everyone present, including the king himself.

“Kings are supposed to be strong, mama!” Henry let out a hearty laughter at that. Onlookers shared relieved glances and polite smiles. The prince twisted around to look at his father, a bit vexed. “Are they not, papa?”

“Yes, little one, they are. Strong of body, but most importantly—” The king tapped his head with his index finger. “—Strong of mind.” 

Elizabeth watched her son’s face going into a slight frown. As much as Harry resembled his grandfather Edward, it was impossible not to see how his eyebrows furrowed together just like Henry’s when he was upset. Especially now, with their faces so close to each other. The prince frowned in mild confusion; the king squinted his eyes to look at the meticulous details of the prayer book.

The king started again. “Come on then. Show me your how your Latin is going.” He opened the book at the Angelus. “Read to me.”

Harry’s high-pitched voice soon followed. “ _Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae_ …” As it was customary, the prince beamed under attention. Whenever he stumbled on the pronunciation of a word, he went back and read it again with confidence anew. “…  _Ora pro nobis, sancta Dei Geni–_ _Dei Genitrix_ …” Every few words his father corrected him, but it didn’t make the king any less proud of his son’s progress.

He squeezed the boy’s arm when he finished. “You did good, Harry.”

“I did! Master Martin says I do! And he says I have great talent for dancing! I’ll show you!” Even though Harry had performed to them countless times before, he still leapt from the throne and ran across the room to drag poor Lady Joan into a lively country dance. 

While the flamboyant steps of the prince entertained the courtiers, the king stood from the throne and joined Elizabeth’s side. He kept his eyes on the dancing and his voice low. “And Margaret? Is she in good health?”

She replied in that same hushed tone. “By God’s grace, yes.”

“And the baby…?”

“Sleeping soundly as an angel.” 

Henry sighed softly. “Dieu soit loué.” He discreetly took his middle and index finger to his lips, raising his eyes at the vaulted ceiling to the Lord above. He let down his hand and Elizabeth laced those two fingers with hers for a brief second.

He shot her a sideways glance before focusing on the dance again. “Will you sup in my rooms tonight?”

She fought against a growing smile. “Only if it will please your Grace.” 

“Oh, it would please me greatly.” He too struggled to keep a straight face, as the upturned corners of his mouth told her so well. 

“Then I will be happy to oblige.”

Looking at his profile, a flash of vivid memories came back to Elizabeth. That spot where his jaw and neck met — that spot boiling under her lips, limbs intertwined, her hand brushing slick strands of hair glued to his temples. Dear God! She needed to confess again.

Henry moved closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t bring your ladies.” He placed a hand at the small of her back and slid it to her hip before pulling it back, heat radiating through the fabric.

She felt her cheeks burning. She had lost her battle against smiling. “I will find an excuse to dismiss them.”

“I’m sure you will.” He fully turned to her, eyes entrancing, thin lips flashing a smile of his own.

Prince Harry ended the dance with a graceful twirl. A round of applause started by the king soon followed, making her little boy look exceedingly proud of himself as he bowed. The prince came running to where his parents stood and Elizabeth pulled him close and kissed his forehead. At that moment she herself felt like the proudest mother in the Christendom. 


End file.
